"For what?" he asked. "To carry something for Dirk's child," Noll answered, meeting his uncle's stern eyes with his own pleading blue ones. "Pshaw!" exclaimed Trafford, impatiently, "what are these miserable fish-folks to you? I don't want you to care for them!" "But, Uncle Richard " "Well?" "Dirk's child is sick, dying, I'm afraid!" "So are hundreds in this world. There's misery everywhere."
There's nothing here to do with," said Noll; "and I mean to coax Ben Tate to buy the lumber and hire a carpenter for me. You see, I've got it all planned, and if it will only work!" "My stars!" said Ned, "I didn't know you were such a fellow. Why, I don't wonder these fish-folks all touch their hats to you, they can afford to, I think. And, Noll, won't you tell me what these people are to you?
I wish to hear naught of those fish-folks," cried Trafford. "Oh! you careless lad, what can I do with you? Are you determined to catch the fever? Are you bound to be always in danger?" "No; but it's terrible over there, and and they're dying with the sickness, and nothing to make them comfortable! Oh! how can I help it, Uncle Richard?" Trafford looked into the lad's earnest eyes and sighed.
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